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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479560">Pitfall of the Soul</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonnenFlower/pseuds/SonnenFlower'>SonnenFlower</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Case Fic, Department of Mysteries (Harry Potter), EAD, Evil Author Day, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Multi, Mystery, marriage law, soulMagic, viva la revolucion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:36:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479560</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonnenFlower/pseuds/SonnenFlower</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Something fishy is going on in the department of mysteries. Will our heros be able to realise what is happening before it’s to late and why is Hermione serving oysters for breakfast?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, a lot of others probably, there will be a lot of changes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Evil Author Musings</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prolouge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please consider that this Prolouge is posted for the Evil Author Day 2021. Even though I fully intent to write this fic one day, I can't promise when or that I really go through with it. I hope you have fun with this. </p><p>Let me know what you think and I'd love to hear what you think in which direction this is going!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>September 1999</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t trust the ministry as far as I can throw it!” Harry was pacing the kitchen like a hippogryph in a cage. It didn’t seem to help though. Hermione on the other hand had her hands buried in her curls, making them even more wild than usual as they seemed to have decided to finally withstand all laws of physics, while she had her head placed on the tabletop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only Ron appeared to be calm. He was cleaning his chess pieces - SOMEONE had spilled pumpkin juice all over them, and the pieces weren’t all too happy about being sticky - while he looked thoughtfully around the kitchen. “I don’t trust them either, but don’t you think that is a good reason to have someone on the inside. You know, so we know when things get fishy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry's demeanor didn’t change at all, if possible, he got even more agitated. “Ron we are talking about the Unspeakables here! You remember UNSPEAKABLES. She won’t be able to tell us a single word about what she will be doing, or anyone else down in that godforsaken hole of mysteries. What good would someone in the Department of Mysteries do for us if they can’t even warn us when something is about to happen?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The white king threw himself off the table attempting to escape, but Ron caught him before he could hit the floor. “This little bugger never liked me, since he usually loses along with my opponent.” The white king kicked around in Ron’s hand, screaming obscenities he had probably learned from Fred and George back in the day. “You know Harry. This is just like chess. We have to outsmart the Department of Mysteries. Always stay one step ahead. And I think I know just how to do that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>April 2001</b>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one of those gray, wet April days where even though it didn’t rain, everything got damp anyway. Grimmauld Place started looking brighter recently. Ron and Harry had worked on renovating the house after the war, tearing down more than one type of wall while they were at it. At the beginning it had been an outlet for their anger and frustration. It wasn’t until later they realised it was a fool proof way to get rid of everything that was a reminder of darker times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Times the twins would still be running around together and Walburga would begin to scream about their comings and goings. Just tear down the whole fucking wall with all that was stuck to it and it would be gone. Every memory, every house elf head,  every burn mark, everything could be torn down. It was a kind of therapy, this taming of the house and making it livable again. But on gray days, days exactly like this, even the new brightness in their home didn’t stand a chance to beat it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ever since Harry, Ron and Hermione had moved into Grimmauld Place - each taking an entire floor for themselves - it wasn’t unusual to wander into the kitchen in the morning and be greeted by breakfast someone already left for the rest of them. So the boys weren’t all too surprised when they entered the kitchen on that specific morning and found a set table with a bowl in the middle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right next to it layed the Daily Prophet. Which was a bit strange. They usually just got it on weekends to see who they were dating now - you needed to keep up with your own sexlife, didn’t you? - but today was Thursday. Thursdays didn’t have a society section, so it was not one of their usual Prophet days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But since it was still early and they both hadn’t had any tea yet, they didn’t wonder too much about it. Ron went for the bowl while Harry took the carafe to serve them both a glass of pumpkin juice. They both didn’t realise at first that Hermione hadn’t left them a pot of tea, like she usually did and that their pumpkin juice smelled suspiciously like white wine - and looked like it. But all their lazy tiredness left them in a bang, when Ron lifted the lid from the bowl and they were met with 4 oysters on a perfect icy bed, set with cut citrons around them. Their eyes met with an expression of alert, when they both grabbed for the Prophet to read the headline.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Dark art blocking of ancient magic flow discovered</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sensational discovery, someone has tempered with the source of magic itself!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Department of Mysteries has found a blockage in the natural magic flow through Britain. “We are working to dissolve it as quickly as possible,” the Minister of Magic, Madam Mafalda Hopkink, announced just before the deadline of this publication. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The blockage is identified as dark magic and is known to restrict parts of the soul magic ingrained into Great Britain's natural power source. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We think a pureblood fanatic may have initiated this blockage to prevent the soul magic from helping purebloods realise they might have a non-pureblood soulmate” - quote from a secret source in the ministry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rumor has it, war heroine Hermione Granger herself is leading the group of experts who are working to dissolve this serious issue. With her on the case, we here at the Prophet believe the Ministry is building the best team possible to gain back access to the magic as nature has meant it to be. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A few Wizengamot members who have asked to stay anonymous already called the times to mind, when wizarding kind was to marry their destined soulmate. “It would be such a blessing in times like this, where our population runs short after two major wars, to know you will for sure make the right decision with your betrothed.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We hope we will be able to announce positive news in this matter soon.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well fuck.” Was all Ron had to say once they both had read the article twice.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1 - March 2001</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>April 2001</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Two weeks later the Prophet announced the lifting of the blockage. The article continued with a request for Dumbledore’s Army to join the press conference that was being held two hours after the actual dissolving of the intricate spell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of them usually kept away from such Ministry events. The DA showing up somewhere still held an authority most of them didn’t want to see in the Ministry’s hands. Showing up meant a form of blessing or agreement that could easily be manipulated. So normally only a few would turn up, if any. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time was different though. Harry had declared he’d go himself, escorted by Ginny and Ron - Hermione would already be there - as well as Neville and Luna. That wasn’t even close to the entire DA, but it was their elite, their leaders. The rest would stay together - to wait and see. Harry had quoted (fake) Moody much too often these past two weeks for anyone's liking. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Constant Vigilance!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny had joked at some point that he sounded like a broken record of his fifth year self, but none of them really felt like laughing about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something felt off about this and they all knew it. It wasn’t really something any of them could put into words. It was like an unfinished thought in the back of one's mind. The feeling of a pair of eyes watching you as you tried to fall asleep. Like the faint memory of a thunderstorm breaking, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was all nothing. Maybe two years of peace were wearing them down. After everything that had happened, how did one relearn to trust an authority that hadn’t been able to save any of them? An authority that relied on children to fight their wars? It wasn’t easily done and no one was sure if the trust had really been earned back yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While the DA was still fighting with their inner dementors and trying to figure out what was real and what might just be paranoia, most of Britain's wizarding world were bothered by a completely different problem ever since the first article about this whole matter broke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if their soulmate was a pureblood? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>beliefs would leave them lonely while everyone around them would find their one? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if the outdated beliefs of a bigoted minority prevented someone who fought on the side of inclusion and light from finding love? A minority who lost the war at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wouldn’t be fair, would it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the beginning there was only aimless fear. You could see it in the eyes of most of the people you came across in Diagon Alley. Soon after, the whispers began. The frantic words passed from witch to wizard, increasing the panic with each recitation. It didn’t take long for the whispers to turn into shouting. Hundreds of wizarding folk protesting in front of the Ministry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one really seemed to know what they were protesting for exactly. Some would answer ‘for my right to love’ when asked. Some would say ‘against pureblood prejudice’. Some would make a statement against humanity trying to interfere with magic and yet others again would claim they were protesting against the Rockford conspiracy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No two answers ever seemed to be the same, but in the end stood a law. A law that should prevent pureblood supremacists to wreak a late revenge against the side of light. A law that was said to guarantee the happiness of every member of wizarding Britain. A law that stated you were to marry your soulmate determined by Mother Magic, herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though the DA had declined the offer to join the press conference as a whole, they met at the Burrow an hour before the blockage should be dissolved. And once more they sat and waited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waited for something - anything to happen, that would change their lives, yet again. It was just another one of these situations, wasn’t it? These situations where someone else made a decision that would dictate their future. They all thought those times were over since they won the war. Clearly they had been overly optimistic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone was situated around the Burrow’s large dining table, each and every one of them a nervous wreck. They all either tapped their finger against their glass, bounced their leg or paced around the table as if playing an intense game of silent musical chairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone was in motion except for Hermione. She was sitting on the left head of the table, back straight, hands folded on the table, eyes glazed over, waiting. It was as unsettling to watch as it was calming,like watching the boisterous see raging against a cliff. No one could deny its power, but at the same time the rhythm of it all had something soothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until she moved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no explanation, no words, no sound, as the game of silent music chairs continued around the table to the rhythm of tapping fingers and bouncing legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione had wandered to the sink, filled it with water and added some dishwasher with a swish of her wand. As everyone around her began to gasp,  freezing in the middle of their activities while clutching their forearms as if in pain, Hermione dipped her hands into the bubbly water and started doing the dishes the muggle way as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. And while everyone was gaping as writing appeared on their wrists, Harry and Ron exchanged a look full of meaning and refocused their attention on Hermione doing the dishes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had transfigured herself a pair of rubber gloves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was quiet, eerie, as if every one of its occupants had stopped any movement. Like every plate, every chair, every being were holding their breath. Waiting for someone to break the silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one moved but Hermione. She continued her methodical dishwashing, keeping the room in a status of Schrödinger’s momentum. Everything was already decided, though no one knew what the exact decision was. The kneezel was dead and alive at the same time, and no one wanted to acknowledge its state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Acknowledgement would mean acceptance and not a single one of them was ready to accept that a few black spots on their wrist were going to determine their future. Good or bad - it feels like their lives were suddenly set in stone and they lost all the control they previously fought for. Childishly thinking they would be allowed to keep it as a kind of gift for their sacrifices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was unnerving and while they all tried to come to terms with their new reality everyone had stopped moving, but Hermione, who was still doing the dishes until two things happened simultaneously. While Percy stormed into the kitchen took the whole focus of the group Ginny's handle of the family clock moved - from </span>
  <em>
    <span>at home </span>
  </em>
  <span>to </span>
  <em>
    <span>mortal danger</span>
  </em>
  <span> unnoticed to anyone but Hermione.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy stormed into the kitchen while still staring at his wrist, looked up at Hermione, looked at everyone else, back at his wrist and up to Hermione again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, don't you want to check your name?“ His words sounded pressed. They conveyed an urgency no one else seemed to feel but him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really. I won’t marry someone politics is trying to set me up with anyway, so why hurry. I’m busy with something much more important.“ Hermione's tone was more bored than anything else as her focus never left the dishes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The urgency of Percy's voice seemed to have disappeared while crossing the distance between them and there was nothing left to reach Hermione's ear but distant interest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dishes.” Not even a question, it sounded more like an accusation. A scream for acknowledgement that was never met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dishes.” Was all the answer he never wanted to get. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s your soulmate!“ Percy’s voice had stopped demanding, now it was pleading, though acknowledgment was still the goal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure about that? The Quibbler wrote the rune they found could also mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>closest to your soul</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so who really knows?“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if he’s the one?“ He asked, leaving pleading behind with nothing but desperation in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he’s the one, I guess he will wait, don’t you think? If he’s the one, I won’t need a magical sign to prove it, would I?“ She still sounded kind of bored while everyone was hanging on to each word, waiting for the next thing she would say like someone dying from thirst waited for the first drop of rain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But it’s the law!?“ Desperation now fully settled in Percy’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, it didn’t seem to reach Hermione's ear. She just grabbed a tea towel and settled to dry up. After every glass was shining she paused and turned around to look at Percy for the first time during the entire conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what Fudge, Scrimgeour and Thicknesse have in common?” Her direct attention and slight change of topic seemed to throw Percy off. This wasn’t a topic that made him feel comfortable so he chose to keep silent. “They actually have three things in common. First of all, they were all Ministers of Magic at some point. Second, they tried to tell me and my friends what to do. And with that we come to third - and in this case probably most important - they are no longer ministers, are they? Also and ⅔ of them are dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione paused her little speech at this point, and reached for some plates to dry them off as well. But after the second plate she turned around once more. “Overthrowing three or four governments... what’s the difference really?“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While everyone focused on the exchange between Hermione and Percy no one noticed the thick silence suddenly swirling between Harry and Ginny. It had been dead silence even before Hermione spoke. The only exchange between those two was one look. That was all. Everything was said.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>2 hours later - press room Ministry of Magic</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will take some questions now - Yes. Mister Potter, lovely to have you here. What’s your question?“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I was wondering, concerning the obligatory weddings. What about people who have dead peoples' names on their wrists?“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Complete silence fell over the entire room as everyone seemed to collectively hold their breath, before focusing on Harry who was standing innocently enough before his chair playing with the fabric of his thick black jumper which went well over his fingertips</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The random ministry PR person was coughed a bit uncomfortably at the press table. “There will be a list with all free people under 40 who will be matched up by an intricate arithmancy formula to guarantee the best suitable pairings. But as you are standing here with your lovely fiancé I’m sure you aren’t one of these unfortunate ones. It’s, of course, very honorable of you to check anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry just stared at the Ministry employee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was too silent, like the mere seconds before a thunderstorm breaks loose and the air is full of static. Until Ginny stands up and speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re sure about this soulmate, love thing? We are all destined to marry the person whose name appeared on our wrists?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The static around the room thickens though there is still a strange calmness that surrounds the room. It’s as if the world is taking a last, long breath to prepare itself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Weasley, our best and most trusted employees were trusted with researching this issue and we are confident to tell you - yes, whoever’s name appears on your wrist is the person you are destined for!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Minister, I have a question specifically for you,” Ginny turned away from the PR person in some kind of a slow, fluid motion, looking the minister dead in the eye as he sat in the back row, “since I get at least the logistics of my brother marrying his dead twin. I’m still wondering how on earth I should have married someone by the name of Tom Marvolous Riddle while my fiancé here is supposed to be marrying someone by the name of Lord Voldemort. Are Triads allowed now, or is this kind of a first one of us then the other type of thing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The storm these words let loose wasn’t even close to the tameness of being  named a thunderstorm. This was something bigger. Something that could bring their whole world down to their knees.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That's it sunshines. Let me know what you thought.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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